


In My Dark Hours, You Are A Bright LCD Screen

by kiki_chu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Depression, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-09 23:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiki_chu/pseuds/kiki_chu
Summary: It's a small thing, but it sets Yamaguchi off. He's spiraling, deeper and deeper into the dark places of his own mind. But his best friend isn't just going to let him drown.





	In My Dark Hours, You Are A Bright LCD Screen

**Author's Note:**

> Written at the request of [Cupnicks](http://www.cupnicks.tumblr.com/). Betaed by [Sleigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleigh).

Yamaguchi pats his pockets, searching for his wallet but finds them empty. He whines but no amount of denial can change the fact that he forgot his lunch money in the classroom. Tsukishima offers to cover his lunch, but Yamaguchi doesn’t want to borrow money if he doesn’t have to, so he says he’ll be right back and jogs off.

 

He’s about to walk into the classroom when he hears his name from inside, and like any curious high school boy he stills and angles his head to listen better.

 

“You’re going to ask Yamaguchi-kun out?”

 

Yamaguchi’s heart flutters a little. He’s not sure exactly who is in the room, but just the thought of someone liking him makes him want to smile.

 

“Of course not Yamaguchi-kun! I want to ask him to give my letter to Tsukishima-kun.”

 

There’s laughter, and his heart drops. Of course it’s really about Tsukishima; he’s cool, and Yamaguchi would totally pick Tsukishima over himself too.

 

Before high school, Yamaguchi never really thought of himself as average. He was neither particularly short nor particularly tall. He might be scrawny, but his athleticism made up for that a little. His hair is a standard color for a Japanese person, and he has acne mixed indistinguishably with the freckles across his cheeks, but he can’t be considered ugly by any means. He scored well on his tests, enough to land in Karasuno’s college prep class, even if he’s never reached top ranks in his class.

 

He just didn’t stand out because there are extraordinary people like Tsukishima around. Tsukishima is tall and good at volleyball player without even trying. Between his blonde hair and glasses he has a distinctive look and is never afraid to speak his mind. Tsukishima is amazing; it’s no wonder Yamaguchi fades into the background in comparison.

 

It is only now in high school, that Yamaguchi realizes that maybe average is all he’ll ever amount to. He sees Kageyama’s extreme talent and Hinata’s relentless drive. He doesn’t have any of that.

 

Yamaguchi doesn’t think he has the grace of Suga to acknowledge that he might serve the team better from the bench. He wants his team to win, but he wants to be on the court when it happens, wants be partially responsible for a triumphant score. That’s why he learned the float serve.

 

And botched it, the voice in the back of his head says. You had the chance to turn things around, to topple a giant and make everyone remember your name, but you ruined it.

 

Yamaguchi doesn’t go into the classroom to get his wallet. He doesn’t go back to the cafeteria and Tsukishima. He’s not hungry anymore. He hunts down his teacher for his next class to makes his excuses, and spends the rest of the day hiding under the sheets of the bed in the medical office.

 

The first text comes shortly after lunch break is over.

 

**Sensei said you went to the medical office. Are you okay?**

 

Yamaguchi has the read receipts turned on. He knows that at this very moment, the word “read” is sitting on Tsukishima’s screen. He should answer, he knows he should. He’s already an average person, he doesn’t need to become a terrible ones who doesn’t respond to his friend’s texts.

 

But he doesn’t. He opens the texts, stares at it, curls onto his side, stares at the text more. He remains limp, with eyes fixated on his phone for the rest of the day. The texts continue to come between each class.

 

**Text me when you wake up.**

 

**I’ll let you copy my notes, be grateful.**

 

**I’ve collected your homework. Make sure to get it before practice.**

 

**I’ll tell Captain and Coach that you’re missing practice.**

 

Yamaguchi waits until school is over and he’s sure that Tsukishima is at practice before crawling out of bed and dragging his feet all the way home. He greets his mom but goes straight up to lock himself in his room. He finally texts Tsukishima back.

 

**I’m not feeling good.**

**Sorry.**

 

Then he turns his phone off and burritos himself in his comforter. He’s been lying down most of the day and has skipped the physical exertion of volleyball practice so his body should be thrumming with energy. Instead, he feels heavy, like his veins are filled with sludge instead of blood. He just wants to stay a lump in bed, until mold and mushrooms sprout all over him.

 

He goes down for dinner, picks at his food. He drags himself through his night routine and goes back to bed. He feels exhausted but sleep is impossible. He drifts and dozes, but inevitability a breeze will brush over his face or there will be a noise from elsewhere in the house and suddenly Yamaguchi is wide awake again.

 

When his alarm goes off in the morning, his face is pale and there are dark smudges beneath his eyes. He doesn’t have to make excuses to his mother; she sends him right back to his room and comes up an hour later with a bowl of porridge and a cold compress. He manages two spoonfuls before he feels full.

 

He feels listless and his head is buzzing. He stares at the ceiling for hours before finally deciding to turn his phone on. It starts up, and the screen is filled by missed messages.

 

**You still should’ve come by practice to get your homework.** **  
** **Want me to stop by your house to drop it off?**

 

**Do you feel well enough to come to school today?**

 

**I’ll grab your homework today too.**

 

The last text is an image only: a fluffy brown dog in a green stegosaurus outfit holding a little sign reading “Get Well Soon” in its mouth.

 

It makes Yamaguchi feel even worse. Tsukishima always seems removed and sharp; he wants to appear like he doesn’t care about anyone. But these texts show so clearly that he does and about absolutely average Yamaguchi at that. Tsukishima is worried about Yamaguchi, and all Yamaguchi can think is “why?”. 

 

Why does Tsukishima, who is outstanding without any effort, care about can’t-stand-out-even-when-trying-his-best Yamaguchi. And he hates himself for thinking it, because it isn’t even like Yamaguchi is especially bad at anything. He isn’t failing at class and was actually put into an official game over experienced third and second years. He isn’t ignored or bullied by his classmates; they all know his name and they probably like him more than not. There is nothing particularly bad or tragic about Yamaguchi’s life, so he doesn’t know why he feels so hopeless when he  _ knows  _ that there are people who have it a million times worse.

 

He’s so egocentric, so very selfish. He’s not average, he’s worse: a useless piece of trash.

 

Yamaguchi punishes himself. His for the next couple of days and into the weekend, his days follow the same course. He huddles under his blankets, suffocating himself a little, and staring at his phone and each text that comes through. 

 

**That guy you sit next to in the morning is coughing.** **  
** **Did you give it to him or catch it?**

 

**The Vice Principal changed his toupe.** **  
** **This new one is too small.**

 

**You’re going to regret missing today’s math lesson.**

 

**Are you feeling any better?**

 

**That orange idiot tripped in the cafeteria and ended up wearing his lunch.**

 

**Classical Japanese is so boring.** **  
** **You better be grateful I stayed awake enough to take notes.**

 

**How much longer do you think you’ll be out?**

 

**We did a lot of serving in practice.**

**Wish you were here to show your stuff.**

 

Each text is a frail tether, a string holding him to reality when all he really wants to float away until he disappears like a released balloon.

 

Eventually, Yamaguchi unswaddles himself to use the restroom. It’s dark outside his window. He passes by the stairway, and his mother calls out him.

 

“Tadashi, I sent Kei-kun up to your room.”

 

Yamaguchi stops, squeezes his cell phone. He’s not ready to see Tsukishima yet, but there isn’t anywhere else he can go. His body feels heavy, like he is made of brick and concrete instead of flesh and bone, but his head still feels light, not completely part of him as though it could pop off his neck and roll away.

 

His room lights are on for the first time in four days. They’re so bright that they sting Yamaguchi’s eyes, and Tsukishima is sitting, slouched, at the low table in the center of Yamaguchi’s room with a tray of refreshments in front of him. Tsukishima has touched neither the juice nor the plate of apple slices. Tsukishima looks up, and Yamaguchi flinches into the wooden frame of the doorway. Tsukishima stares at him, eyes trailing from the raggedy hems of his sweatpants, to his waxy, unwashed face, and finally to the greasy, matted strands of his hair.

 

“You look terrible.”

 

It’s such a Tsukishima thing to say that Yamaguchi can’t help the laugh that escapes him. It’s a hoarse, joyless sound, and it seems to startle both of them. There’s an awkward silence. Normally Yamaguchi would fill the air with his own chatter to make things easier for Tsukishima, but he feels so very spent and lacks the energy to even try. Tsukishima looks around, but his eyes eventually land back on Yamaguchi, tracing down his arm to the phone he’s still clutching.

 

“You got my texts then.”

 

“I did… yeah.”

 

Yamaguchi walks over to his bed, making a wide circle around his room and keeping his distance from Tsukishima. He collapses onto his bed, and drags his blanket so it curls around him, edges pooling in his lap.

 

“Think you’ll be up for school tomorrow?”

 

Yamaguchi shrugs. There’s nothing really wrong with him right now. He should be going to school and not wasting the money his parents spent on his schooling just because he’s feeling sorry for himself.

 

Tsukishima reaches into his bag and pulls out a paper sack emblazoned with the logo of the local fast food joint. 

 

“I probably shouldn’t have, but these are for you. They’re probably a little soggy, but I know you like them better that way, weirdo.” 

 

The smell of fried food fills the room. Yamaguchi feels his stomach grumbling for the first time in days. He slides off the bed and scoots forward on the floor until he’s seated opposite of Tsukishima at the table. Tsukishima pushes the bag of fries over to him and takes the plate of apple slices for himself.

 

Yamaguchi crams down fry after fry. He’s been doing nothing but laying in bed the last couple of days, and he knows that grease is the last thing he should be eating, but he can’t stop himself.

 

Tsukishima nibbles on the apples and slowly starts talking about things that Yamaguchi missed. Tsukishima’s words start off as stilted, but eventually they begin to flow steadily. 

 

At first Tsukishima’s voice is like background noise for Yamaguchi. He doesn’t really hear his friend, and he’s just focused on the mechanical motion of sticking fry after fry into his mouth, but by the time his fingers reach the bottom of the bag he is actually able to focus on what Tsukishima is saying.

 

Tsukishima relates an incident that resulted in Hinata and Kageyama running laps under a furious Captain’s watchful glare, and Yamaguchi feels a small smile form, cracking the skin his chapped lips. It stings, but it’s a good feeling.

 

They finish their food, Yamaguchi even laughing once or twice. Tsukishima keeps the conversation flowing on his own, but Yamaguchi feels that each word grounds him. Each sentence pulls him more out of his head and back into this room where his friend was sitting with him, just across the table.

 

There’s a lull in Tsukishima’s monologue as the blonde takes a drink of juice, and Yamaguchi finally speaks up.

 

“Tsukki.” His voice sounds weird, unused. He clears his throat and continues. “Do you think I'm worthless?”

 

Tsukishima finishes his drink, sets his cup down with a plastic clunk, and just looks at Yamaguchi. He feels like squirming under the blank look in those eyes.

 

“Do you think I’d waste my time with someone like that?”

 

That’s true. Tsukishima has very little tolerance for things he considers to be not worth his time. Or rather, he was very vocal if he didn’t like something. Yamaguchi can remember their first meeting, the cool figure Tsukishima cut saving him from bullies in elementary school. That childish voice spitting out the word “pathetic” still lingered in his head. Even if Tsukishima still thinks that of him, he hasn’t chased Yamaguchi away yet.

 

“You’re the most tolerable person I’ve met thus far, and not just anyone can serve as the pinch server for our team, as many freaks and weirdos as we have.”

 

His heart soars and his stomach plummets at the same time. Tsukishima is actually complimenting him, in his own way, but at the same time Yamaguchi is reminded of his failure against Seijou.

 

“Kei-kun are you staying the night?” Yamaguchi’s mom calls from downstairs.

 

The two boys are startled and their faces snap over to look at the clock. It’s late. Tsukishima has been here for a couple of hours already.

 

“No, I'm leaving now.” Tsukishima gathers his stuff and begins putting the cups and plates back onto the tray.

 

“You can leave that, Tsukki. I’ll take it downstairs.”

 

Tsukishima pauses, stares at him, and Yamaguchi fidgets.

 

“You look much better.” Tsukishima reaches into his bag and drops a stack of paper on the table. “Here’s all the work you missed. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

 

Tsukishima leaves, and Yamaguchi climbs back onto his bed. He’s not smiling, but he still smothers his face into his pillow. He might be more average than extraordinary, and he still might have completely fallen apart when it was his chance to shine, but he no longer felt that this was the end of his world. He wants to try again. Even knowing the bitterness of failure, he wants to do it again and succeed.

 

The next morning he wakes up before his alarm goes off. The first thing he does is reach for his phone and tap out a quick message.

 

**Good morning Tsukki!**

**Author's Note:**

> If you're ever feeling depressed, or even just a little down, please reach out to the people around you. Even if you think you're bothering them, trust that they want you to be alright.
> 
> Thanks for reading ♥


End file.
